[fic] Writing To Reach You
Title: Writing To Reach You
Subject: Ginko, Adashino, Tanyuu, Aya
Note: written for 30_friends. please also excuse the use of a Travis lyric for the title. >_.
(long-distance)
Ginko brings a pair of linked cocoons to Adashino some weeks after he first receives his own. The intention is to sell them: used almost exclusively by mushishi, they seem the sort of thing Adashino would gladly buy. Yet Ginko gets through the explanation without getting to the price, and by then it is too late: the enthusiasm in Adashino’s voice is no longer merely due to his fascination with all things mushi-related.
“I can contact you, then? At any time?”
Adashino gives one to Ginko, but pays for both; Ginko tells himself that is the only reason he agrees.
(passing notes)
Ginko knows the value of the mail system - has seen the difference that a few days' delay can make -- and so avoids using it for trivial purposes. Adashino was enthusiastic about it at first, as Adashino always is, but they both realised early on that Ginko had nothing to write about besides recent cases. Though Adashino insisted that he didn’t mind, Ginko’s increasingly less-than-indulgent replies eventually succeeded in halting their correspondence.
Ginko prefers telling those stories out loud, anyway. He knows he is not alone in his preference of speech over text: Tanyuu, too, has had enough of the written word.
(some advice)
"You can't expect me to give you advice if I can't even tell what the problem is. I've told you before -- you could try writing neatly for once. Just look at this," Ginko says, holding out Adashino's latest letter. "What am I supposed to make of it?"
"It looks perfectly legible to me."
Adashino's tone is entirely unsympathetic. Ginko sighs. "You're not the one who has to read it. I mean, I have to visit you every single time I receive one of your letters, simply because I can't understand them."
"Ah," Adashino says complacently. "And isn't that a shame."
(golden thread)
Ginko does not say, Why didn't you tell me? That is only because he knows he has no right to.
"She found her way out of the tunnels," Aya says quietly. "Following a thread of light, maybe--"
"No. Your letters brought her home, as you believed they would." A pause. "I'm sorry."
"About what you said the last time? Don’t be. Sometimes I think--" Aya breaks off, noticing how Ito is still lingering behind her, and reaches for Ito’s hand. "It's okay, Ito. Ginko's... Ginko's an old friend."
Not much of one, Ginko thinks. He does not say that, either.
(gifts)
There is a drawer in Adashino's house that holds these things, among others: one half of a pair of linked cocoons, too worn out to still be used for mail; a small unopened bottle of toad oil, unlabelled ( Is it made from mushi? Adashino had asked, and Ginko had just stared and said in that infuriating, deadpan voice, It's a normal souvenir. You know, since you've become a doctor and all, Adashino-sensei-- ); careful ink drawings of mushi, the last page slightly smudged; a scattering of letters. Adashino seldom has reason to open the drawer, but he knows its contents well enough.
Subject: Ginko, Adashino, Tanyuu, Aya
Note: written for 30_friends. please also excuse the use of a Travis lyric for the title. >_.
(long-distance)
Ginko brings a pair of linked cocoons to Adashino some weeks after he first receives his own. The intention is to sell them: used almost exclusively by mushishi, they seem the sort of thing Adashino would gladly buy. Yet Ginko gets through the explanation without getting to the price, and by then it is too late: the enthusiasm in Adashino’s voice is no longer merely due to his fascination with all things mushi-related.
“I can contact you, then? At any time?”
Adashino gives one to Ginko, but pays for both; Ginko tells himself that is the only reason he agrees.
(passing notes)
Ginko knows the value of the mail system - has seen the difference that a few days' delay can make -- and so avoids using it for trivial purposes. Adashino was enthusiastic about it at first, as Adashino always is, but they both realised early on that Ginko had nothing to write about besides recent cases. Though Adashino insisted that he didn’t mind, Ginko’s increasingly less-than-indulgent replies eventually succeeded in halting their correspondence.
Ginko prefers telling those stories out loud, anyway. He knows he is not alone in his preference of speech over text: Tanyuu, too, has had enough of the written word.
(some advice)
"You can't expect me to give you advice if I can't even tell what the problem is. I've told you before -- you could try writing neatly for once. Just look at this," Ginko says, holding out Adashino's latest letter. "What am I supposed to make of it?"
"It looks perfectly legible to me."
Adashino's tone is entirely unsympathetic. Ginko sighs. "You're not the one who has to read it. I mean, I have to visit you every single time I receive one of your letters, simply because I can't understand them."
"Ah," Adashino says complacently. "And isn't that a shame."
(golden thread)
Ginko does not say, Why didn't you tell me? That is only because he knows he has no right to.
"She found her way out of the tunnels," Aya says quietly. "Following a thread of light, maybe--"
"No. Your letters brought her home, as you believed they would." A pause. "I'm sorry."
"About what you said the last time? Don’t be. Sometimes I think--" Aya breaks off, noticing how Ito is still lingering behind her, and reaches for Ito’s hand. "It's okay, Ito. Ginko's... Ginko's an old friend."
Not much of one, Ginko thinks. He does not say that, either.
(gifts)
There is a drawer in Adashino's house that holds these things, among others: one half of a pair of linked cocoons, too worn out to still be used for mail; a small unopened bottle of toad oil, unlabelled ( Is it made from mushi? Adashino had asked, and Ginko had just stared and said in that infuriating, deadpan voice, It's a normal souvenir. You know, since you've become a doctor and all, Adashino-sensei-- ); careful ink drawings of mushi, the last page slightly smudged; a scattering of letters. Adashino seldom has reason to open the drawer, but he knows its contents well enough.